


Antique Shop Rendezvous

by sugarby



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: AU, Drama, Gen, M/M, Other, spirits/supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 23:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1620521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The small but cosy Antique Shop in the Northern District is run by Clear and his grandfather and it's visited nearly everyday by Aoba who instantly draws him in and leaves a trace in his lonely atmospheric world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antique Shop Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I'm a sucker for the sweet, lovey dovey stories, this is something I really wanted to write as soon as the idea came to me a few mornings ago. And I wanted to try to help stretch my wings and broaden my writing style, therefore voilla!
> 
> It's late and I'm so relieved I finally finished this after a couple of days ;o;

**Day 1; November 1st 2014**

It's another quiet morning, a Saturday.

Clear is already familiar with the routine and knows what to do as soon as the sun rises, and before his grandfather--the owner of the small, but cozy, antique shop--comes downstairs to do his bit. The hanging door sign is turned around so that it reads ' _open_ ' instead of ' _closed_ ', the thick curtains are drawn back and sunlight pours in, and the broom is grasped to sweep the floors. The sunlight sifting through the glass panes highlight the dusty areas Clear might've missed, and he smiles with gratitude, happy to have the warm element's help.

All of this done each morning without fail. Though the shop doesn't often get many customers, it's in Clear's nature to stay positive, to keep an open mind and hope for the best, and to never give up. He and his grandfather have put so much in to this small shop of theirs that practically each antique, whether they're the original owners or not, holds a part of their soul inside (at least until they're taken away by their new owner). Many years ago, working alongside his grandfather was all Clear dreamed of: To be able to earn his keep and make money to put in to things that interested him while spending time with his grandfather was what made him happy. Having a mother and father and a few friends as well sounded nice, but he stopped being in desperate need of those when his bubbly and unique self drove others away, but they did so while sticking a label to him: weird. unordinary. Not normal. So, he'd grown up being sheltered without knowing anyone else other than his grandfather, and without knowing much else other than antiques, and Shepard's pie, and warm, loving cups of tea with a nice slice of cake or cookies to go with.

Caught in his cleaning chores, Clear was just able to hear the bells above the door chime.

And a customer was _coming in_.

Clear's first look to the customer told him that he was different, and not from the same area and had been exposed to various things during his upbringing. Yet nothing-who he was and why he had come in to the small shop. The bit beyond modern boots he wore left behind faint prints on the areas Clear had yet to cover, a blatant and literal semiotic of the way a stranger from another place and time was entering the life he had been living which hadn't seen much of anything outside it's zone. Trailing upwards from the footwear, Clear noted that at least the pants, Jeans, and possibly including the thick leg warmers, were acceptably normal enough. They shaped the wearer's legs that were nearing skinny with an attractive molding, a curve that was hard to look away from in its hypnotic-like walk. Moving upwards, he wore a casual long-sleeved shirt with a big, puffy over-jacket that looked as if it was already ready to swallow his small frame up if ever.

The face of the customer was what did it for Clear, who has always had an issue about his own appearance and people's opinion of it. It's why up until the age of sixteen he insisted his face be covered by a gas mask he found in the shed his grandfather's old house had in the back yard. The shape of the customer's face wasn't anything new or different, but his eyes...and his hair! Honey coloured eyes and unusually long, blue, feminine-looking untied hair that parted from the back and draped over each shoulder, looked like it was longing to be touched by the softest fingers as the stands barely lifted under the lull of the shop air as he walked over to the front desk, leaned on it and glanced around.

Clear's Pearlescent pink eyes clung to the newcomer hotly, draw to the new existence, to him and everything he could be, ears twitching at the sound of music pumping through the headphones that hung around his neck on full blast. That also was something new to him and his sheltered world, a mixed rhythm of heavy bass and electronic tones that were more alive than the classical piano and slow-jazz he used to dance to when he was a kid and sometimes even now in the shop in the middle of the day.

Clear's so enticed that he's a little afraid to interact with the customer who's like an alien in his world. "H-Hello, good morning! Welcome to our antique shop! We sell many kinds of antiques from foreign plates and picture frames to dinning furniture and memorabilia and even clocks!"

The newcomer kept quiet and didn't look his way. Was he ignoring him? Or maybe he was just as afraid too. Clear knew he was a little weird but was it noticeable without communication?

"Um...Can I help you with anything?" Clear asked, trying again. Admittedly, his social skills didn't go beyond the everyday conversations with his grandfather and light conversations with other older people, usually customers. Pathetically, even the products in the shop he often gazed at in their confinement of the store window. "Is there something you're looking for but can't see?" Wait, was he indirectly insulting his vision capabilities? He had basically just asked if he was blind! "I-I mean!-There's more in the room at the back, if you'll just wait a-"

"No, it's fine." The customer's voice is finally heard and it brings a new kind of life to the usually quiet and almost empty shop. He stands up from his casual leaning position and walks back the way he came to the door, not looking at Clear once on his way out.

The bell above the above the door jingles as he pulls it open and steps through. And the sense of the shop reverts back to the way it was before the foreign arrival of the customer, traces of his alien-likeliness nowhere unless one has the ability to reach inside of Clear and feel the skipping beats of his fluttering heart.

 

 

 

**Day 2**

"Oh-IT'S  _YOU_!" Clear wasn't expecting him to return, especially not after how horribly he had recited the shop's welcome speech and he must have looked like a total creep staring at him the whole time. It's just that...He was so captivated! And that's no excuse but it explains the excited gasp he reacts slowly too and misses the chance to cover it up but dumbly smacks his hands over his mouth afterwards anyway which seemed only stranger now that it wouldn't do much good.

The blue haired newcomer looked at him this time, briefly. His expression couldn't be deciphered but he didn't look at him long enough for it to be attempted, lightly clicking his tongue as he turned away.

"...S-Sorry, pardon me!..." Clear managed to squeak. Watching him like before, he saw his focus on looking around the store again, in search of something apparently. Was he really alright by himself?...Did he know what shop he was in? "Anything I can help you wi-"

"No."

Clear maybe should've known from before. But with how...unusual the customer was, it was hard to make any real predictions about him. Clear's intentions to help were good and innocent, so why was he being shot down? Could he not understand him right? Did he have a sensory impairment? No, none of those could be the case if he knew how to reject so easily.

He watched the customer look around the store again, look as if he was searching for or expecting something to happen. A change from yesterday perhaps, although going by the slow pace of the shop it wasn't likely. Clear watched with patience right up until the customer walked out again. He didn't say bye but at least he had looked at him, noticed him.

 

 

 

**Day 5**

By the time he visits again the fifth time around, Clear's recital of the shop's welcome speech isn't a total loss. Well technically, he was a mumbling fool again but it wasn't a total loss because he and the newcomer ended up talking. Either that or he was just pitied that much it was decided he needed a break by now.

The customer, who reveals his name to be Aoba Seragaki after little interrogation but respectfully nicknamed 'Aoba-san' by Clear, helps himself to one of the many and assorted lollipops from the oddly shaped bowl at the front desk. To him, it's something a very young child would make in pottery class but there's a tickling feeling at the back of his mind that the shop owner's grandson would know about it as he seemed so very pleased it was getting recognition. ' _You smile way too much and stare too often_ ' Aoba thinks while he unwraps the lollipop from its plastic covering, admires its trendy bright colour and then its sweet flavour when he shoves it in his mouth. Taking another look around the shop, he makes a comment stemming from a curiosity.

"Not very safe running a cosy little shop like this in such a bad town."

"Ah, well...But it's convenient." Clear says, offering a smile of appreciation for the concern. Or maybe it was a general curiosity since the Northern district is practically abandoned, a ghost town but with a few hoodlums lurking around. "Can I ask where you're from?"

"Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't. Sorry! Am I being rude? I'm just curious."

Aoba  _must_  pity him because despite the tired look he throws at him he does answer, pulling out the lollipop that's glossed over with his natural wet bacteria that even has the power to draw Clear in, who thinks himself weird for wondering how life would be right now if he was that candy sucker. "I'm from the East district. I live with my grandmother and brother."

"Oh, I see."

Taking another look around-spinning on his heels, Aoba asks, "Got anything...I dunno, nice?"

"Well, I think a lot of the things we have available here are nice. Could you be a little more specific?"

Aoba sighs. It's as if he has a short temper and Clear tenses, ready to apologise if it comes to it. "My granny's birthday is coming up soon and I don't know what to get her. I thought I'd find something for her in here, but..."

Clear quickly scrambles from around the desk. "Oh, how about a clock?" He asks, rushing over to the glass display shop window and looking at a certain clock in particular encased in an oval glass dome. The clock itself is a golden head but its body is a thin pendulum-like stick with several golden balls around it slowly being turned, somewhat resembling an umbrella. If time was like an umbrella then surely the rain drops were the seconds and maybe the time in-between their descent from the heavens to the ground below were the hours? "I really like clocks. I like adding up all the precious time I get to spend enjoying life and being with people I love."

"Yep. Right up until you die."

Clear looks at him, uneasily. "Well it ruins it thinking like that."

"Excuse me for being realistic instead of joining you in your lala-land over there!"

'... _What?'_  Clears blinks at him before knowing the stubborn face isn't going to give in and look back at him anytime soon and he speaks again. "This one is my favourite." Clear stares at the clock with a dreamy expression and a glow in his eyes. "I've been around it the longest out of all the clocks here, since we first opened up the shop. Grandpa said that if no one buys it by February twentieth then he'll give it to me as a gift."

"Hm, that's cool I guess." Aoba says. "But why then? What's so special about it?"

Clear slides an index finger over the glass dome to etch random patterns in to it. Although it's not his yet he can hardly leave it alone now. Smiling, he remembers that he was drawn to it many years ago and his feelings haven't changed. "February twentieth is my birthday, Aoba-san."

 

 

 

**Day 7**

"Aoba-san, have you ever been to Platinum Jail?"

This time, Aoba isn't looking around the shop. He's skimming through a magazine that was lying around on the front desk and the couple advertisements about coil accessories caught his attention. "Once. I went with my brother and a friend."

"Wow, I bet it's amazing! What's it like? I hear about it on the radio and I've caught a few articles about it in the papers but I imagine actually being there is a whole other experience!"

"It's okay. Not bad but like, not  _that_  great either." It had bored Aoba quickly. No matter where he went or what he looked at it it was repetition everywhere, in everything no matter the difference in colour or contrast or even the key points of the attractions meant to suit certain individual tastes. And everywhere he went was cramped, people choosing to just stand around like they were in a trance rather than actually do anything.

Clear was still enticed just hearing about it. "I hear there are five different areas to it! There's Flame Willow and Green Playground and...Ooh! Night Valley-and of course you can see the Oval Tower in the middle of them all!"

' _That goddamn tower_ ' Aoba cursed as he turned a page in the magazine. It had given him the creeps, a strange feeling that unholy things went on in there, not that he was particularly religious or anything but-

"Hey, Aoba-san, which do you like best?"

Aoba didn't care, but if he really liked any of them then it was, "Midnight Blue Coast."

"That sounds amazing! And which do you think I'll like?"

"How the heck would I know?" Aoba shrugged, obviously not interested and he was hoping Clear would get the message and stop going on about it. "I dunno, maybe Aqua forest or whatever, like...I don't know!"

"Aqua Forest..." Clear repeats, completely absorbed. He imagines what the amusement-like place must be like and thinks of crystals and enchanting buildings and white snow everywhere all making up a beautiful, dreamy paradise like the ones told in fantasy tales.

"Why're you so interested anyway?"

"Grandpa needs to buy a few things to repair one of the antiques. The stores around here don't sell what he's looking for and you know how things are these days; all high-tech and advanced and all that. I'm going too and Grandpa said that if we have time then we'll take a look around and maybe even watch the celebration parade!" Clear twirls around on the spot with his arms spread wide, his long coat whisking a path around him as he basks in his thoughts about what tomorrow will be like, if it'll really be just like the fantasy that is Aqua Forest. "I'm really excited to see it all, Aoba-san!"

"Oi, don't you have any friends you can hang out with? I know you love your grandpa, but...like, don't you get tired of being around him all the time?"

"Not at all." Clear stops twirling and looks at him. "Grandpa is grandpa and he always will be."Aoba couldn't fully understand what that was meant to mean and Clear could tell. It wasn't a big deal since people often tended not to understand his point of view anyway. "It doesn't matter. And anyway, I have you, Aoba-san. As long as you're here for me then I don't care that to everyone else I'm a weirdo because to Aoba-san I...um, what am I to you exactly?"

"A scatterbrain."

"...Eh?! Hold on, Aoba-san, isn't that a bit too mean!?"

" _You_  asked!" Just because this guy was fishing for compliments didn't mean Aoba was going to shower him with them, seriously! "But for the record, it's not like I can hate you or anything when you're too nice and innocent. You're like a little kid."

Clear's intentions weren't to fish for anything but even if they were he wouldn't have expected to hear that. It's true he could get a little carried away with things and he has a big imagination that he tends to neglect reality for. But was this really how the man who had drawn him in instantly perceived him? It was a lot nicer than what most people had to say about him. "Aoba-san, thank you!"

"What for!?"

"You're kind to me. And your company lets me to add up even more precious time I get to spend with someone I really care about. I'm so happy and thankful that I could meet you and talk to you, even if it's just for a little while." For someone who hadn't seen much of what the world had to offer, taking the new information and people he hadn't imagined he could ever know about in small doses was more than enough for Clear. He would be greedy to ask for more friends when Aoba was a really nice friend already.

So yes, it was enough.

A warmth, coloured similar to Clear's eyes, awoke on the sides of Aoba's face.  _Damn it_! He stood up properly from leaning over the desk again, heading out while his skin was still pale in most areas but stopping by the door to say, "Have fun tomorrow, as much as possible!"

"You're leaving already, Aoba-san?" Clear asks in surprise. "...Okay then. And I will."

Aoba's hand clasps the door handle and he pushes the door open but not all the way, not yet. The bell above stops in mid jingle just as he does with one foot out the shop and the other planted on the wooden flooring, hesitant to exit.

"...Clear?"

"Yes, Aoba-san?"

"Just..." Aoba couldn't say what he really wanted to. He could say it a thousand different ways but instead he settled on simple parting words, aware that afterwards he would head in to a very cold world and it was likely to be for a while. "Bye. And take care."

 

 

 

**Day 8**

Aoba's awkwardly bent and draped across the couch in the living room in a messy structure. He had woken up ages ago in the early afternoon at but hadn't gone anywhere since. That was fine with him because he wasn't planning on going anywhere, not today. The Antique Shop was likely to be closed due to both the owner and his co-worker grandson being out at Platinum Jail for most of the day. But even if their absence wouldn't stretch to long hours, there was a feeling in Aoba's gut that he couldn't ignore keeping him grounded at home.

"It's awfully rare for you to be in these days." Tae, his grandmother, came in to the room, a basket of dumped clothes to wash keeping her from crossing her arms in distaste. "Don't you have somewhere to be today then?"

"...No." Aoba exhales, movement stiff except for the kicking of his foot as he stared at the clock on the wall in front of him. His attention had been taken up by it for almost an hour, watching the hands go round, inching closer and closer to the next hour he would've spent at home for the first time in a week.

"Hm, that so." Tae wasn't going to be thrilled about his stay if it would just be unproductive. She looked around and asked, "Where's your brother?"

"Mizuki." Aoba heard her sigh and mutter something under her breath. She didn't seem happy to hear about her other grandson dating so soon more than the grandson in front of her wanted to be her eyes and ears on the couple. What Sei did with Mizuki in their own time was their business, and the same for himself whenever he left the house.

Tae sighed again and looked down at the laundry and then at Aoba. "Are you going to help out with the chores or be a lazy good for nothing all day!?"

Aoba put on the saddest puppy look he could muster while feeling so terrible. He had a feeling she wasn't going to go for it and he got a piece of dirty laundry thrown at him, her way of saying ' _pack that shit in and get over here now!_ '. Why though? They both knew he was useless at these kind of things. And he wasn't doing anyone harm by laying on the couch. He was just laying there, watching the clock, feeling the time slip from him as he counted up the time he had spent with someone he recently met.

 

 

 

**Day 9**

Next day, he's standing out in front of The Antique Shop.

The temperature is colder than it was a few days ago. Chill air gusts under the palms and sweeps the bangs of Aoba while whispering against his ears that were bare, headphones discarded in his room at home. Here he was again, not like usual but like he hadn't been yesterday and like he had many other times this past week.

It was a little...unreal.

Over the door is the hanging sign that's always turned around first thing in the morning in preparation for the shop to open but the 'CLOSED' in big font is leering at him. Aoba watches the sign rattle when the wind picks up and he takes that moment to push open the door and step in to the shop, the chime from the small instrument above his head echoing in the silent room and then fading out in to the chilly air that whistles by.

Aoba looks around, down at the floor where he can see the faint imprints of the pattern on the bottom of his shoes and the enormous shadows cast from the curtains that haven't been pulled open yet, and up at the clocks on the walls that are bigger than the ones in the shop's display window and automatically louder with their ticks and tocks.

So far, he's the only person there. And with the curtains still closed a speck of sunlight can't even offer to be good company. Deciding that standing around in the silence only amplifies his loneliness, Aoba twists the dial of the old fashioned radio that has always been sitting on the main front desk, the same radio that Clear would hum along with and dance to whenever he was cleaning or overjoyed, and that was a lot of the time. Aoba passes the channels full of nothing but static and muffled Japanese and the old, classical songs before he manages to find a station with decent sound quality as he hears today's news be presented.

After a rambling hurdle about criminals being caught, a family winning the lottery and the small talk about a celebrity couple preparing to have a baby, the tone in the presenter's voice lowered and the gaps between her words where the commas would be in the script widened. This was the breaking news headline for today, and probably a long time. " _The amusement-like facility, Platinum Jail-founded by Toue Inc.-has closed off most of its attractions after its monument, Oval Tower, collapsed during the one year anniversary celebratory parade due to a power shortage."_

Aoba feels his heart swell and the palms of his hands begin to bloom perspiration. There's also an uneasy feeling settling in that he can't shake off and it's too quite like the one that kept him at home yesterday. Being in the shop, inhaling its ancient scent, feels strange, as if he's entering it for the first time all over again regardless of how he understands the motions and pitch of the surrounding clocks he's spent enough time around to be able to know. Holding the position of the only person in the room feels daunting now.

" _The number of casualties is less than ten including severe and minor injuries. However, with the invitation-only admittance in to the tower for tourists, there was an unfortunate incident involving-"_

"Aoba-san?" Clear was too quiet coming in to the shop that it was no wonder Aoba was so startled that his rush to switch off the radio could have easily sent it flying off the desk and smashing to the ground in bits and pieces. For Clear, it's a surprise to see Aoba here now when he didn't turn up yesterday. But oh well, it didn't matter. So long as Aoba was here now to keep him company again. "Good morning!"

"...Morning."

Clear blinked, a long stare putting him on the spot. Was there something Aoba wanted to say? He was given a moment to try and gather his thoughts but without meaning to seem rude or impatient Clear really had to get a move on and start cleaning. After all, he was late coming to the shop today. Goodness, the curtains weren't even open! What would customers think of their sloppiness!? "It's a shame what happened." Clear says, grabbing the broom and sweeping, like always as usual. "You know, the accident at Platinum Jail with the tower collapsing."

"Oh...yeah, that."

"I'm glad everyone inside got out alright. It could have been tragic."

"Clear..."

"Yes, what is it, Aoba-san?"

Just like before, Aoba couldn't say what he wanted to say. "...It's nothing. Just..." Only his alternative choice wasn't a settle for less, unlike before. "...Did you get to go there? To Aqua Forest."

"...No." Clear shook his head slightly, his puzzled expression now a gentle sadness; a fragile smile and a dim gloss in his eyes that told Aoba he was distant in recollection. "I could see it from the tower when I was up there though."

"...What did you think of it?"

"It was very beautiful and magnificent." Clear looked up, smiling at the vision of the world above the peeling ceiling. "Everything glowed and was so bright and white. I could hear nice music coming from the parade in the streets too, like chimes or a small choir. Being there made me really happy and Grandpa, he...I'm so glad he was a part of it because I won't ever forget it, not anything about it, no matter what."

Aoba saw the determination on his face and couldn't disbelieve a word.

"It was all wonderful."

 

 

 

**Day 12**

"Aoba," Sei was standing at the top of the stairs when he just barely caught his brother slipping on his boots before he left the house again for the umpteenth time this week. "You're going out  _again_? Where to this time? No, in fact, where do you keep going?"

"Why's it matter?"

"It's suspicious! Grandma says you're hardly around and..." Sei figures nagging isn't the way to go. Besides, he doesn't really have a problem with his brother always being out. He's more curious than annoyed like their grandmother. "Listen, Mizuki and I are planning on throwing grandma a surprise party for her birthday and we're going to meet up for lunch later. Why don't you come along? The more ideas the better and plus Mizuki hasn't seen you for a while."

"Nah," Aoba stands up, ready to leave. "I don't feel up to it."

Sei sighed. "Aoba-"

"Not today, Sei.  _Please_."

"You say that but you're hardly around for me to ask you any other time!" Sei couldn't possibly understand or even help if he was going to be put in the dark. Forget just being curious, with Aoba acting selfish like this and cutting his family out, Sei was fed up. "You know about what happened in Platinum Jail, right? I hope that's not where you're going all the time."

"As if! You don't need to worry, I'm alright by myself. Sorry, I'll have lunch with you and Mizuki some other time okay? But just not today. Not right now while things are..."

"What things?" Sei was  _worried_  now. "Aoba-"

"Forget it. I'll see ya later." Aoba said, shaking his head to dismiss himself before he opened the door and walked out.

 

 

 

**Day 16**

Clear tugged at the wristbands of his latex gloves, pulling until their stretching made them transparent and then released them, a slick then snapping sound violating the silence of the room. A rag was pulled out from one of his deep coat pockets and he began to focus on tenderly scrubbing at the glass dome that encased his favourite clock. "The gloves keep the grease and dirt that's embedded in our skin from smudging the antiques we touch. Because I tend to clean whenever on a whim, I just regularly wear them."

"Ah." That was all Aoba could say really because he tended not to question Clear anymore when the normality for him was to be weird, even when he himself didn't think so.

"And they're cosy too!"

"Uh huh."

"It's even better if you sing while you're cleaning. Keeps the fun going, you know?"

"What fun? Cleaning's a  _chore_."

"I know. It can be fun though if you sing while you clean, is what I'm saying. Like in that Disney Film!..."

Aoba pronounced in messy English, "Snow White?"

"Yes, that's it!" Clear snapped gloved fingers at him, like he was an excited host for a game show and the million-dollar prize had just been claimed by the winner. The pitch in his voice heightened as he began to hum, thinking himself to be Midorijima's very own Snow White who loved to clean just as much as he loved to sing. His snow-coloured hair would certainly nab the role for him easily. It's a nice tune he's humming and his voice is light and soft. He reached the end of the song at the same time he stopped scrubbing, and the spotless glass reflected his appearance immaculately-Clearly, like his unique identity. "There, all done!"

Aoba leaned in close for a look. "It looks...Nice. Clean."

"Thank you, Aoba-san."

The elderly owner of the shop, Clear's grandfather, came over eventually looking quite lost when he looked at Aoba for a while, with a dimness in his eyes similar to Clear from the other day. Then when he turned his head to a particular antique, he was baffled. He could see his reflection in the glass and immediately felt the distance as Aoba saw Clear reflecting in his eyes.

"It's clean."

Aoba watched him stand there for a good while admiring it while beside him, watched Clear grasp the ends of his long coat to pull them up and bow his heavenly frosted head, grinning bashfully.

"You're welcome, Grandpa."

 

 

 

**Day 21**

The owner of the small antique shop was sort of mysterious to Aoba in all the ways he knew nothing about him. There wasn't a time when passing across the narrow hall to go upstairs or seeing the back of his scalp and his retreating body were instead determined stays behind the main desk and casual chatter over a trivial relevance.

Relying on what he was told by Clear, Aoba knew that the elder was a good man who worked hard after pouring his heart in to the shop he had made sacrifices for in the past, doted on his grandson like a proud and loving father and apparently made the best cups of tea. Of course, Clear hadn't tried anyone else's version of the beverage for his judgement to be fair and he whined like a little kid when he was accused of being too biased.

But he did know him best. And that's why it was unreal for Aoba to know about the lack of communication between the two of them. Clear's basic biography of his grandfather painted a picture inside Aoba's mind of endless back and forth chattering between an old man and his grandson. Yet the old man had taken to wandering around the store alone and looking like he was trying to figure something out (much like Aoba when he first came in to the shop). Meanwhile Aoba and Clear stayed downstairs on the main floor of the shop, covered by the darker than they used to be shadows of the closed curtains.

"Grandpa is upset with me still." When Clear said that, Aoba wasn't entirely sure if he was saying it to himself or to him. Maybe neither and it was just an observation because he could see the concern on Aoba's supposedly 'stoic' face. "It's my fault. I did a terrible thing. I should've listened to him and not gone behind his back."

"...You think?"

Clear nodded. "That's why I make sure to clean the clocks extra special. I'm hoping he'll see how clean they are and know that I'm sorry. He will know won't he, Aoba-san? Grandpa will see what I've done and then he'll know that I feel bad and he'll forgive me, right?

Aoba held back on the definite yes he was eager to let out, half-consciously pressing teeth down on his bottom lip to still it in to submission. At least until he could properly judge what was the appropriate thing to say. While his concern for their lack of communication wasn't as subtle as he thought he had never brought it up because even though he couldn't completely believe in his suspicions that didn't change how he had a feeling about what would happen, but was helpless to stop it.

"Aoba-san, why are you looking like that?"

_'Like what? I've always looked at you in this way.'_

"Aoba-san, please don't make that face."

_'...T-Tch!...What face? You i-idiot!'_

Clear laughed a short while and then he smiled one of his usual bright smiles. And the real meaning behind it reached Aoba's ears louder than the clocks around them, both telepathically through his apparently easy-to-read facial expressions and his ears that were topped with a chill. "Aoba-san..."

_'Why are you saying my name like that!?...'_

_'Like what?...Haven't I always called Aoba-san like that?'_ Aoba wasn't nearly as naive as Clear prayed he would act to spare him. In the moment between their empathy-powered reading of each other's minds and seeing Clear fail to keep himself together-broken; his shoulders trembling along with the lips he couldn't decide whether to keep open or closed as tears spouted and rolled down. Aoba caught him as he submitted to the will of his knees that caved underneath him, both of them now in a cradle position on the unswept floorboards.

Shakily, pink eyes went sideways and met with hysteric hazels. "I-I though...that if I kept smiling and cleaning then it would be like nothing's changed. I thought that...because I didn't know about many things that I could carry on like this because it was simple. All I've known for the longest time is grandpa and clocks and for the longest time I was okay with that. But then you came, Aoba-san and you made me want to see more things after meeting you."

"You know," Aoba began. _"_ You were so creepy, always staring at me from behind the counter. It made me nervous."

"Really?" Clear lifted a hand up to softly press against Aoba's cheek. "Nervous how?"

" _Good_  nervous."

"...Yeah, me too." Clear exhaled contently as he retracted his hand to place over his stomach while the other one clasped around Aoba's trembling fist. "Listen, if Grandpa doesn't get the message then will you tell him for me? Tell him that I'm sorry I went up to the Oval Tower even when he forbade me. I was so excited and I wanted to see as much of everything as I could. I wanted to have as much fun as possible, like you wanted me to."

"Yeah," Aoba nodded and quickly swiped away at the wetness under an eye. "I'll do that."

"Grandpa always made me tea whenever I cried. That's how I know it was the best you see, Aoba-san. Because it was made especially to make me smile again and be happy."

The lids of Aoba's eyes fell tightly. He wanted it to be a different day. He wanted to try Clear's grandfather's tea and be filled with the happiness Clear had never been without as lonely as he life was and the happiness he had scarcely looked for.

"I enjoyed Grandpa's tea very much, but I wish he had known that I was always happy just to be with him. Just like I was always happy to be with Aoba-san whenever you visited me."

"Stop it, just shut up!" Aoba forced himself to open his eyes and look on to the where the crack of sunlight escaping in was shining over. His unsightly shaped other self staring back at him was nothing like the broken smile he could see below it. This was absurd but what was even stranger was Clear's request because why wouldn't the owner get the message when the antique had been cleaned with such gentleness and love, like every second spent scrubbing was precious?

 

 

 

**Day 24**

Aoba stared on in to the shop through its windows even as the building's rusty shutters chattered as they were brought down, covering up the hanging door sign that would never again be switched around and the entrance that wouldn't welcome anyone in again. "So...you're really closing down the shop?"

"Have to. There's no point running a store that no one comes to. Or loves anymore for that matter."

"But you...-!" Aoba started to say but closed his mouth. This wasn't an issue he could step in to. From here on out, anything to do with the shop was no business of his. In less than a week, the owner would've left Midorijima to live on the mainland and the shop would only become one of the many empty and forgotten stores in the district.

The owner took a step back from the shop, fetched something out of a box in the front seat of his car and handed it over to Aoba.

It was Clear's favourite clock.

"No! Sir, I can't!" Aoba immediately sought to decline, trying to return the antique. "There's no way-"

"You came here everyday. You were his only friend. It would be pointless for me to keep what I intended to give away and as far as I know he thought of you like an entirely new world." The elder man explained. "My grandson, he very much enjoyed your company."

Aoba enjoyed Clear's company too. That's possibly why he thought he couldn't handle being around such a priceless item that no doubt had a part of his life in its spotless glass that always reflected back to him his radiating smile. He quit wanting to force the antique out of his arms, embracing it. "Thanks...I'll try to look after it."

The elder patted his shoulder in good faith and got in to his car, passenger's seat and entire back row occupied by boxes and bags of the belongings he would take with him to the mainland. In his hand was the keys to start up his car and in his pocket was the keys to the shop. Any and every movement of his legs brought the car keys to life with a jingle, but it wasn't like the jingle of the bell above the door that chimed and neither of them would ever hear it ever again.

 

 

 

**Day 29**

"Do you think Grandpa...Will be okay?"

Aoba stretched open his mouth for a long yawn, stretching his limbs across the rough, paved roof of the shop they had managed to climb on top of, and then sighed. "Not sure." He answered as he turned on his side, one arm stuck out and the other resting under his head. "You know him, so what do you think? Isn't this when you say that your grandpa will always be your grandpa no matter what?"

"Mm, that's true." Clear planned on following his grandpa over to the mainland. To wherever he went until his last breath and they could be with each other again. "What about you, Aoba-san?"

"Tch, I'm not gonna become a sad loser if that's what you think! I'll pass by this place nearly every day, that won't change. I just...Ugh, it'll suck! Every day was the same until I came here and met you. I mean, you're still a scatterbrain to me but...l-l-like I said," Aoba couldn't stand that he was shy all of a sudden. "It's not like I could ever hate you or anything like that."

Clear understood. It's something that was conveyed before when he asked Aoba what he was to him. Back then, he wasn't certain if they were just acquaintances or still strangers or even friends and he really wanted to know. To Clear, from the moment he first watched Aoba walk in and took in his foreign existence he was someone he wanted to get to know. The opportunity to wander outside in to the world he was sheltered from was there and he was glad he had taken it, grateful too for where they were now because maybe the circumstances weren't favourable but at least they were together.

"Aoba-san, from the bottom of my heart I love you as well."

"Y-You, tch...IDIOT!" Aoba snapped. Outraged, he turned his head so fast there was almost a sprain to go along with his beet red face. "Who even said anything like that!?"

"You did, in your own way."

"AS IF! I can't believe this, you weirdo!" Aoba turned around again and through body language stubbornly decided that was the end. He snatched hold of his iPod and turned up the volume with furious hits from his right thumb, the beats and vocals of GOATBED filling his ears more. Music was the key to getting over aches and colds that he couldn't put up with so he thought it would also do well curing the sickly stir in his stomach and ease the uncomfortable clump in his throat. "Oi, put your umbrella up, it's about to rain."

Clear looked up and the blue sky and passing clouds confused him. "Eh? What are you talking about, Aoba-san?"

" _I said_  it's about to rain."

"And I heard you but I don't get what you-" Clear had leaned over the still body to present his bewildered face so he could question the order, but as he did he finally saw it and understood. Sympathy dragged out a smile and Clear stuck his transparent umbrella out, gripped his thumb against the stick to trace the lever upwards and it opened out above them. "Ah...so it is  _raining_  afterall."

It rained hard that day; an unstoppable flow of salted emotions fell and they stung Aoba's eyes mercilessly.

 

 

 

**Day 33; December 3rd 2014**

"A clock? What for, to remind me that I'm getting older!?"

"Wha-? No, Granny!"

"It seems like the sort of thing a forgetful grandson like you would run out and get at the last minute!"

Right, only half of that was true. Hurtful, but true. Firstly, it was hard for anyone to forget Tae's birthday when she mentioned it so often. Her 'subtle hinting' by complaining about ageing yet feeling as young as her shoe size was really an obvious cry for attention to be pampered and treated like a Queen. And naturally she would've gotten that without asking and even if she had completely tabooed it. But secondly, Aoba's gift to her was chosen only three hours before the start of the get-together his brother and his boyfriend had planned. He wasn't trying to seem cheap or like he didn't care. It was Sei's fault actually, and his boyfriend whose job working at a bar earned him quite a generous profit by the end of the day and they could afford a great gift to not so subtly rub in Aoba's face when Tae opened it with a delighted gasp.

Aoba was done with the pair of them for that scandalous move. Was this because he didn't have lunch with them the other day? Oh whatever! "Sheesh, Granny. Fine, I'll have it then."

Tae hurled the clock at him and turned away in disappointment from her grandson who had barely dodged a head trauma and juggled the antique around in his hands before it settled safely in his palms.

Sei laughed at his misery. "You can't tell me you weren't expecting that."

"Shut up, you don't get to talk to me after the stunt you and Mizuki pulled! Besides, she should be grateful I even remembered her birthday!"

"More like  _you_  should be because she would've smacked you if you hadn't."

"Shut up!" Aoba snapped again. Right now, he couldn't take his brother's grin. Just because Granny liked his snobby gift-which he didn't even buy himself but split the price with Mizuki! Well technically, Aoba hadn't bought his gift either. It was a gift, twice; second time to him and the first...

Sei peered over his shoulder to look at the antique. "So a clock."

"I know what it is!" Aobamoved over to the mantelpiece and set the clock down in the middle among the Christmas decorations and cards they had received from neighbours. It did have an 'out of place' touch in its golden glimmer under the light but that would change over time as it got used to its new home.

"I mean why? Granny isn't particularly interested in them. Although this one is beautiful, can't deny that. Where did you get it anyway? Is there a story?"

"It was a gift. And no, there's no story. It's actually more like..."

"Hey, Sei, Aoba!" Mizuki was shouting at them for them to come over and join him and the other guests of the party around the table. "It's time to cut the cake now so hurry up or I'll eat both of your shares!"

Sei gasped. "You wouldn't dare!" He turned and tugged on his brother's arm. "Aoba, come on! Trust me, Mizuki doesn't really have any self restraint with food! Let's go!"

"Alright, Sei, I can hear you!" Aoba whined, swatting the hand away but only for it to grab him and lead them over to where everyone else was. Before they were too far away, Aoba looked back at the clock.

He very well knew that he couldn't care for or clean it like Clear did, not even after watching him so many times. The way it was done had a special spark to it, and a nice song sung in a pitch he wouldn't dare attempt to reach. It was a nice gift, the clock. Eventually, it would come to a stop and cease to add up the times and moments preciously spent. And whenever that happened, Aoba could still rely on his memories of his rendezvous with Clear in the small but cosy antique shop.

**Author's Note:**

> ....So sorry. I feel like I should be apologising. I'm not familiar with writing angst but I'm really happy with how this has turned out. And as sad as it is, I think Clear's happy-go-lucky and eccentric character fluffed things up! At first, I wasn't sure if I could write this the way I wanted it to be but I think I've done it the justice only I could give it because it's mine.
> 
> What helped me write this was listening to Foxes 'Glorious' album, particularly my favourite song 'echo' and 'White Coats. I normally don't listen to music because it's distracting but in this case it was just the cup of tea I needed. Really, though it depends on what you're writing and the mood you want to set, I think music can be a reliable addition to writing a story.
> 
> Oh yes, if you've read up to here then I'm grateful, so thank you very much! (✿◠‿◠)


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